The Order of the Citadel
by Apparuerit Diabolo et Loqui
Summary: There is nothing left in that world for Holly Potter and Hermione Granger so they are taken to a new world faced with a great evil. Their old world won't let them leave easily though. Fem!HP/HG Fem!Slash Femslash


**The idea for this story was bugging me last afternoon and I had to write this. I should have the next Chapter of the Venerable House of Le-Fay out in a few days. I've been having a bit of trouble recently.**

**I thought I should try writing something other than HP/GW so here we go. Expect Dumbledore bashing next chapter, and Ron and Molly bashing down the line.**

**Yes, this will be femslash eventually.**

**Warning: I don't usually include chapter warning in my stories but for this I'm making an exception. The first three scenes in this story are utterly depraved and disturbing. It features rape, torture and murder, while a child is forced to watch. I hadn't intended originally to write it this way but that's how it ended up. I'm going to include a short version at the end of the chapter for those who skipped it**

* * *

**The Order of the Citadel**

**Chapter One:**

**Sanctuary**

**24th of October, 1987**

Walden MacNair, Chief Animal Disposal Officer for the Ministry of Magic – read _executioner –_ and former servant of the Dark Lord Voldemort strolled through Saint Ludmila's Girl's K-12 School south of London looking for his prey. He didn't consider himself to be a paedophile rather... someone who got off on wanton cruelty and sadism.

Girls about twelve or thirteen years of age were his usual targets because they generally understood what was about to happen them; they begged and pleaded, and he got off to it. Younger girls on the other hand usually only experienced pain without the anguish of understanding what was happening to them. To his knowledge the muggles taught their children to rut like animals in their tenth or eleventh year, meaning girls after that age were ideal.

'_Disgusting filth_,' he thought as he surveyed the crowds.

He was quite sure that quite a few of his several hundred victims over the decades ended up pregnant too; forced to carry his bastard spawn along with the shame of being a girl barely into her teens pregnant.

'R_eally, they should be grateful to accept the seed of a man of my stature.'_

He could kill them – he knew many of the Dark Lord's former followers did that after having fun with muggle filth – but he preferred for them to live with the fact and the memory of his face; death was too quick for this scum. It really didn't matter if they knew who he was and what he looked like, it wasn't like the muggles could do anything, it wasn't like it would ever see the inside of a courtroom.

It wasn't his only depravity though; sometimes he would target soon to be mothers, doing his best to make the _experience_ so traumatic they miscarried.

'_They should be thankful they're no longer carrying such muggle filth inside of them._'

Sometimes he would make husbands, fathers and brothers watch as he had his way with their family members, and sometimes very occasionally he would have his way with the young boys as well; knowing that when he buggered them he destroyed their masculinity and worthless self-confidence, made them feel pathetic.

During his time in his Master's service he had learnt to keep magic at a minimum during events like these, lest he attract the attention of the obliviators. More powerful magic was reserved for when he could get away quickly and didn't mind a Ministry response to the event. He didn't want the Ministry to interfere here.

'_It wouldn't do for the little slut to forget the experience, would it?' _he thought viciously with a grin.

The only magic he was using at the moment was a _Notice-Me-Not_ charm; something commonly used by witches and wizards who had difficulty blending in with muggles meaning it would go relatively unnoticed on the United Kingdom's magical detection grid. Here, it meant the middle to upper-class school's security team wouldn't escort him of the premises or call in muggle law enforcement, giving him plenty of freedom to wander around the all-girls school looking for the right target; decent looking – at least for a _muggle_, innocent and preferably popular for most shame when everyone found out what happened to the little slut.

As he wandered through the playground he came across an area where a large number of younger girls were playing. Walden realise this wasn't the right area for _today's _fancy and was about to move on in search of older students when a small scuffle caught his attention.

"How do you like that you bucktooth know-it-all?" called out a seven or eight year old girl who looked like she was the leader of a small gang of similarly aged girls.

The leader-girl had taken a large book off of the bucktoothed bushy haired girl and proceeded open it before dropping it pages down onto the asphalt ground before stepping on it and attempting to grind the book into the ground, shredding pages on the abrasive surface.

"Stop it, Alice! I'll have to pay for that if you damage it," the bucktoothed girl wailed.

"That's the point, Granger," replied the leader-girl – _Alice_ – with a nasty grin.

"Please stop!" she continued to wail.

Alice's friends snickered at Granger's distress before suddenly the book under Alice's foot flew and landed in Granger's outstretched hands. Alice – who had most of her weight on the book at the time – fell over backwards; the back of her head slamming into the asphalt with a wet crack. Seeing what had happened, the _filthy mudblood _– Walden knew what she was now – started to cry before she turned and ran away into the school building as Alice lay of the ground moaning, dazed and concussed from her fall.

Walden suddenly had a change of fancy.

o0o0o0o

Walden waited in the Leaky Cauldron eating a late lunch and had a few drinks. He had spent nearly half an hour looking for the little mudblood bitch so he could put a tracking charm on her; having decided he really needed to take his time with this one in her own home.

He knew what he was going to do; first he was going to wait until the whole family was home – five-thirty in the afternoon should do it – before apparating to the whore's home by following the tracking charm.

He would then put up a simple wanded muggle repelling ward – it wasn't anywhere near the level of a proper muggle repelling ward with ward stones but it would last the few hours he would need – before breaking down the front door and tying up the bitch's family members.

He wasn't exactly sure what he was going to do with them though, he wasn't sure what family the little mudblood whore had. He was sure she didn't have any younger siblings – _Dolores_ was sure to have taken care of that, but if she had any older sisters or maybe a good looking brother who wasn't too old…

Walden was glad the robes he was wearing covered up the _tightness_ in the pants he was wearing under them.

He was pretty sure he wasn't going to touch the mudblood that way; she just wasn't yet ripe enough to _react_ the right way. His previous experience with younger girls was just a mess, dryness and not that much pleasure. On the other hand if there isn't anyone else for him to enjoy – say there isn't a mother or sisters – he would; he wanted to have a dip in the pond so to speak.

'_No, I want the little whore to watch, to know that this is her punishment for daring to try and become a witch,'_ he thought in anger.

He knew he was definitely going to make the father watch before…

Walden glanced at his watch before smirking, seeing as it was approaching five-thirty he knew he could stop fantasising and get to doing.

o0o0o0o

Walden finished up inside the mother who was tied face down as she begged and cried. The mudblood was tied to a chair and sat there still and silent; tears flowing from her eyes. The father still struggled against his bonds with a look of murder in his eyes, the silencing charm the only thing stopping him from yelling obscenities at him.

He had been forced to use a stunner on the father as he entered the house, it seemed that unlike most muggles who frozen in fear at a violent assault, the father pulled a kitchen knife he had been using to prepare dinner and attempted to slash him with it. Once that happened he stunned the other two before carefully observing out the front window and waiting in case someone from the DMLE showed up. Ten minutes later he relaxed and levitated the three pieces of trash into the master bedroom.

He smirked at the father as he withdrew from the wife, naked from the waist down and let the father watch what he had just done. He was a bit disappointed though that there was only the mudblood, and her mother and father.

Walden searched through his robes and pants abandoned on the floor before he found the hilt of his knife and wand.

"You should be thankful, filth, that I have granted you my seed," he said as he walked towards the weeping mother, knife raised.

Walden ran the rune etched knife down the woman's back and down her buttocks with enough pressure to cut the skin as the knife left a trail of smoke and steam behind it as she started to scream and beg again.

The knife was something made by wizards in the thirteen and fourteen hundreds to sell to muggle surgeons; it was a knife designed for amputations. The blade was inscribed with runes to cauterise the skin and cast a numbing charm at the same time so the patients wouldn't bleed to death or die of shock. When he had acquired it he had asked a friend familiar with runes to scratch out the rune sequence that provided the numbing effect, turning it into a wonderful torture device that also stopped his victims from bleeding to death.

Momentarily Walden wondered why Bella liked to use the _Cruciatus _Curse on her victims. A knife was much more superior, giving the use tactile feedback as it sliced through flesh – his even gave off the wonderful odour of burnt flesh.

Giving the muggle filth a few more slow slices he checked his watch; he had to meet with Lucius in an hour. With a disappointed sigh he turned to the mudblood – he wish he had more time.

"You know, this wouldn't have happened if it wasn't for what you did, you little bitch," he said calmly. "I'm doing this _for you_."

As the girl broke out in fresh tears, silently crying he turned to the father, raising his wand and undoing the silencing charm.

"You fucking bastard, I am going to gut you and make you beg for death!" roared the father.

Walden gave a small snort as he surveyed the enraged father.

"I don't think so," he replied with a smirk as he began to slowly approach the father. "I think it will be you begging soon."

Walden took his knife and used it to slice the father's pants, exposing his manhood. Putting his wand on the floor, Walden took it in his hands and gave it a few rubs, causing it to give its natural response.

"Oh, look at that, dearie," sang Walden gleefully. "Seems your husband enjoys what I did to you!"

The mother began to cry again, unable to see her husband in her position.

"Shut the fuck up you piece of filth!" roared the father again.

That rubbed Walden the wrong way.

"Filth am it?" he asked in a low deadly voice. "I'm a pureblood of the finest heritage, and you're just a muggle; no better than your whore of a wife and daughter."

The father spat in his face.

'_Now you've done it,_' he thought before saying verbally. "I guess I have to teach you your place."

Walden placed the blade where the father's genitalia met his body and pushed down, slicing through flesh as the man screamed and his eyes watered.

"How do you like that?" whispered Walden.

Getting up and giving himself a rub Walden contemplated giving the whore's mother another ride; he would be cutting it a bit fine. It wouldn't be a good idea to waste Lucius' time. Ultimately he decided to finish up as he got his pants back on and threw on his robes.

"Well you little bitch," said Walden with a vicious smile as he grabbed the mudblood's hair and pulled her face up so she was staring right at him. "Say goodbye to your parents because this is the last time you'll ever see them alive."

"No, no, no," was all the mudblood muttered quietly.

Walden grabbed a better hold of her hair and pulled her up; dispelling the magical ropes with his other hand in the process. Both parents seemed to be lost to the world as he used the mudblood's hair to control her and lead her out the door. As they passed each room he cast a simple fire charm into them as books, carpet and furniture sprung alight – knowing that something nastier like _Fiendfire_ would attract the DMLE like moths to a lamp.

The little whore was still muttering '_no_' as she was led out the curb before he roughly pushed her to the ground, gave her a firm kick to the ribs causing her to whimper and curl into a ball before he used his foot again and pushed her onto her back; forcing her to uncurl.

"Hear that, you little whore?" he asked as he placed his foot on her chest to stop her moving.

Hermione could hear panicked screams and pleas as the house began to blaze.

"Those are the final moments of your worthless mother and father," he answered with a grin.

Walden watched the purifying flames for several seconds before he felt the small tingle of the muggle-repelling ward coming down from the inferno.

"Well, I'll have to be going soon," he said, knowing any moment the muggles would notice the blaze. "Just remember this, when you get your Hogwarts letter – something filth like you doesn't deserve I might add – I'll give you a visit at breakfast in the Great Hall. I'll smile at you and give you a little wave and there will be _nothing you can do_. Know that, you little mudblood bitch – this was all your fault."

Walden gave her a smile but she didn't respond, staring at the slowly emerging stars as tears leaked from her eyes. Satisfied with his work, Walden gave the bitch another firm kick in the ribs, sure she had broken a few there before disapperating with a pop as sirens were heard in the distance and the screams of the girl's parents were drowned out in the roar of the flames.

'_This is going to fuel my fantasies for weeks,'_ he thought cheerfully as he cleaned up to meet with Lucius.

o0o0o0o

Skinny and emaciated, Holly Potter sat in her cupboard under the stairs, again locked up for some massively blown out of proportion or non-existent mistake. The seven year old had spent much of her seven years believing she was worthless, that she _deserved_ this. However, no longer able to put off sending the girl to school, she had slowly begun to learn the Dursleys were just _wrong._

The books she had found in the library were somewhat _naïve_ on the topic but they were still in essence correct. It had taken her two years to get to this point, she was now firmly convinced that her… _aunt_ and _uncle_ were despicable human beings and that something would be done if the police got involved.

Uncle Vernon may have been a somewhat simple man but he knew enough to never use anything that left a mark. He strictly stuck to using his fists on areas that would be covered by clothes. Still, the large purple bruise and the possibly fractured ribs would certainly be enough to have police and police forensics swarming all over the house.

Holly decided then and there she would see the school nurse at her first opportunity and hopefully she would be away from her… _family_ a few hours later.

o0o0o0o

**31st of October, 1987**

Holly could see all of the children dressed up for Halloween through the window of Metropolitan Police Ford Sierra she was being driven in as the sped towards Privet Drive.

It had taken her longer than she thought it would to see the school nurse; when she asked her teacher she dismissed her and told her to stop worrying over 'some minor thing'; something Holly found odd seeing as she let most people go to the nurse for a papercut. Eventually she just walked out of class and went to the nurse anyway.

The nurse – like her teacher – dismissed her until she pulled up her threadbare shirt and showed the nurse the large now black and yellow bruise on her side. The nurse just stood there in a daze for several seconds blinking stupidly before her demeanour completely changed and started to ask Holly how it happened. Holly just spilt everything in a flat monotone voice – she couldn't remember the last time she had cried over her treatment.

Half an hour later a pair of police officers – one male and one female – appeared followed by two women from the Department of Child Services. Like the school nurse they immediately eyed Holly with suspicion and dismissed everything she said until she showed them the bruise. Like the nurse they seemed dazed at the revelation and she was now convinced something _odd_ was happening to make people not notice.

It made sense really. It explained why no one ever noticed the state she was in. Something was happening to make people not notice.

The school nurse had eventually decided that Holly should go to the hospital to make sure she wasn't in any immediate danger. Like the school nurse, the police and the Child Services workers she had to show them how badly Vernon had beaten her to get any response and snap them out of their daze.

The police interviewed her as she waited for the x-ray results. The nurses and orderlies who hadn't seen her injury eyed her with distaste and had a look on their faces that suggests they were confused at the police officers who were taking her seriously. When the doctor came in he ordered the confused orderly to get her a meal as he began to explain the results.

Evidence of multiple broken bones in the past, malnutrition – though not enough to require a hospital stay at the moment, unusually short for her age, underweight and finally the wrong prescription for her glasses.

The police officers and social workers asked if she was up for a visit to Privet Drive, she said yes. They wanted her to point out where she had been staying and she knew a small part of her would relish watching her aunt and uncle being dragged away in handcuffs.

"It's the next left," she muttered quietly as they approached the final bend to Privet Drive.

"Ah-huh," said the police officer driving as he nodded.

Holly glanced at the Child Services worker next to her. She seemed nice but she wanted to treat her like a small child, Holly wasn't sure she had ever been a child. She would rather the woman not sugar-coat everything and talk in that infuriating 'cutesy' voice. Holly presumed she was in the police car with her instead of in the following car with the other Child Services worker and the school nurse in it as some sort of… comfort to her.

"Number Four, isn't it?" confirmed the police officer.

"Yes," replied Holly as he stopped the police car in front of the house.

All four of them got out of the house; Holly could see Aunt Petunia staring at the four of them through the front window with a look of worry on her face. Turning to face the two police officers and single social worker she noticed they looked… _confused_. It dawned on her then that something was even more wrong.

The female police officer suddenly grabbed her by the upper arm and dragged her towards the front door of Number Four, Privet Drive. It finally dawned on Holly that it was _the house_ that was the cause of these strange events.

As the male police officer knocked on the door to the house Holly shivered in fear, she thought her only hope there was to show the nasty bruise again, hoping they might snap out of it.

"Stop fidgeting," snapped the officer who was holding her as she gripped Holly's upper arm harder.

Holly looked back towards the police car to see the other social worker and her school's nurse standing there talking, looks of confusion on their faces and shaking their heads.

Holly knew she was screwed.

"Yes?" answered Aunt Petunia weakly as she opened the door.

Aunt Petunia's eyes were darting fearfully between Holly, the police officers and the confused Social Workers and Nurse who seemed to have made up their minds and started to get into their car.

"We got called into your ward's school today," said the male police officer grimly. "Seems she made a false police report; we thought it was best we bring her straight home to you."

"Uh – yes, thank you," said Uncle Vernon. "Let me take her off your hands."

The police officer holding Holly pushed her forwards to the front of the group where Uncle Vernon took her other arm and held on tight.

"Please do see that she is suitably punished," continued the officer. "Next time we will have to charge her."

"Yes, don't worry about that," said Uncle Vernon before shaking his niece-in-law forcefully by the arm and talking quite loudly into her ear. "I think for this you'll have to be grounded for… _one month_, at least."

As the police officers nodded Uncle Vernon dragged Holly to her cupboard, unlatched the door and forced her headfirst inside before slamming it shut and locking it for good measure.

Holly silently pleaded that the police officers would do something after witnessing her being locked in a cupboard of all places but to no avail. If she could have seen the front doorway from where she was she would have seen that they didn't even bat an eyelid.

"So, officer, mind if I ask what she falsely reported?" asked Uncle Vernon curiously.

"Oh – uhh," replied the officer in thought. "I can't remember off the top of my head. I can get the report from the car if you want."

"I think she was saying something about… someone assaulting her," said the female officer. "Silly girl, really, thinking she could get away with a fib like that."

"Yes, that sounds right," said the other officer in a pondering tone.

"I see," muttered Uncle Vernon.

"Don't worry, we'll make sure this doesn't happen again," said Aunt Petunia.

"Yes, sorry about the hassle," said the male officer. "We just needed to make sure the girl knew how serious it is to report something falsely."

"Not at all, officer, not at all," replied Uncle Vernon.

"Well, we'll be on our way, sir," replied the male officer.

"Good day, sir," said the other.

Holly heard the front door close and someone locking the door before the heavy thumps of Uncle Vernon approaching. The door to her cupboard opened to find the enraged and purple face of Uncle Vernon staring at her.

"You think that's funny, girl?" he ground out as he grabbed her collar.

o0o0o0o

Constable James Morris followed his partner towards the patrol car. As he opened the passenger door he noticed a signed form in his hands.

_Warrant to Enter and Search Premises for Evidence of an Indictable offense_

_(Section 15 of the Police and Criminal Evidence Act 1984)_

_No. 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey._

"Jennifer," said the Constable. "Any idea what this is?"

Constable Jennifer Holcomb took the form offered by her partner and glanced over it.

"No clue," she replied in confusion. "Why would they give us a Search Warrant?"

"I dunno, maybe they made a mistake at the station?"

Both officers shook their heads at this nonsense and got into the car, eager to finish their shift and get home.

Over in the Little Whinging Primary School the school nurse sat down in from of her monochrome displayed computer. She had been a bit confused why she was over near Privet Drive with two women from Child Services but thankfully they offered to drop her back off at the school.

Rereading the last few lines of text she had written she stared in confusion.

"Why did I write that?" she muttered.

Just to be sure she reread the whole thing and was even more confused. Yes, the Potter girl had come in for something but she dismissed the girl for being a hypochondriac. There had been nothing wrong with her… she thought.

Sighing and with a shake of her head she deleted the entire document and shut the computer down for the night before loading her stuff into her car and heading home.

o0o0o0o

Hermione curled up on the provided bed at the South London Children's Home staring blankly at the wall.

Orphanages hadn't existed for over a decade and instead they now had '_children's homes' _like the one she was currently in. The home was used for long-term troublesome children in the system and as a stopover point for the more well-adjusted children going into the foster system.

Hermione hadn't thought about it but aside from the mental trauma of the even she was a very desirable foster child; straight As in every topic at school except PE, only even been in detention once – all because of a strange and unexplainable event, and once the plot of land that once was the location of her parent's home and the life insurance is paid out she will be very well off financially.

None of these mattered to Hermione at the moment though, all she could think of was the words ringing in her ears.

'_This is all your fault,'_ the voice ringed. '_I'll make you a little visit…_'

Her tears had run dry days ago. The only time she got up was when the matron forced her to get up for meals. The last time she had spoken more than 'yes' or 'no' was when the Child Services lady managed to get her to describe the man to the police officer doing the Ident-kit. Only a third of the way in the police officer had shuffled though his papers and provided a hand drawn photo of the… _man_ who had destroyed her life. The officer didn't explain but she knew the man had committed at least one horrible crime before.

Not long after the police had insisted the eight year old return to the hospital for a rape-kit.

There was a knock at the door and she didn't move.

"Hermione?" called the matron of the home through the door. "Hermione? Can I come in? Detective Johnson is here to see you."

The Matron on the home – a _Ms Stewart_ – was surprisingly kind. At mealtimes Hermione hat witnessed her going from firm voiced to kind very rapidly. She seemed to know which children needed a firm had – probably from their histories – and which did not. Detective Johnson Hermione had met briefly, once the beaten eight year old and the tied up burnt corpses sent the homicide alarm bells ringing.

Not getting a response from the girl the Matron opened the door and followed the Detective in.

"Ms Granger," he said to no response. "Ms Granger, can you hear me? Hermione?"

Hermione glanced at the Detective briefly, breaking eye contact with the wall for the first time since lunch. Detective Johnson glanced at the Matron who shook her head. Sighing he sat on the unoccupied bed and faced the girl.

"Ms Granger, I'm here to inform you of the Metropolitan Police's findings of the event on the night of the twenty-fourth," he said to no response. Sighing again he continued. "We have identified your parent's attacker and… We have identified you parent's attacker as someone known to us. We do not have a name but he has been linked to several other crimes."

_'Several,'_ he thought. Yes, the man had.

From the newly introduced DNA matching technology they had linked the man to eighteen separate rapes in the last two years, and from his description there was probably at least seventy more dating back over a decade. This was the first time they had conclusively linked him to a murder though.

"Unfortunately we do not have and more clues at this time," he continued sadly. "The investigation has hit a dead end."

"You're… you're not going to find him, are you?" whispered Hermione.

The Detective blinked at Hermione several times in surprise; he hadn't expected her to say a word.

"Unless there is some new evidence or a breakthrough, it's not likely," replied the Detective carefully.

After several seconds the Detective got up and after a small sad smile he spoke again.

"I'm sorry for your loss, Ms Granger," he said opening the door, the matron following behind him and before door closed with a snap.

Turning towards the matron she gave him a sad smile.

"So, no luck then?" she asked.

"Unfortunately not," he replied grimly.

"You said you had encountered him before, didn't you?" she asked looking for answers.

The Detective stared at the matron for several seconds wondering what her motive was before he decided to answer.

"Yes," he replied. "The man is a serial rapist, though this is the first time he has conclusively been linked to murder."

"You mean the girl was…?" the Matron gasped out.

"No," he replied quickly. "She wasn't thankfully."

"Thank God for that."

"Yes, we should be thankful for that at least."

The Detective stood there uneasily for several seconds.

"This wasn't like his usual MO," said the Detective. "The man usually… usually targets young teenage girls. Occasionally he branches out but this is the first time he left someone… unmolested."

The Matron paled at that.

"How many victims?" she asked, scared to hear the answer.

"Dozens, more," he replied uneasily. "We don't really know."

"You said this wasn't the man's usual… MO?" she asked, unsure of the correct terminology.

"Yes, MO," he confirmed.

He had already said a lot about the case – more than he should have – but they had no leads and were at a dead end. It wasn't like they would ruin a case by discussing it he thought.

"The man usually targets young teenage girls and occasionally pregnant women – sometimes younger girls and boys. This time he targeted a married couple and their daughter. He… had his way with the mother and forced the girl and the husband to watch before… _castrating_ the husband and then he told… Ms Granger that he had done all of this to punish her."

The matron gasped again.

"How horrible!"

"Yes," agreed the Detective grimly.

"Why would he say such a thing? What did the girl do?"

"Nothing we know of," he replied with an uncertain shrug. "The man is a sadist; he may have said it just to mess with her head, to make her suffering worse."

o0o0o0o

Holly sat in her cupboard clutching her broken arm. She had brought it up to try and stop a blow to her face only to have it snap in the process. The next blow she couldn't defend herself from and she was certain if she looked in the mirror she would find her cheek swollen and bruised along with a bloodied lip.

It was the first time she could remember the man going for her face. Usually it was her gut or her chest that got the brunt of it. That didn't mean it had avoided injury this time though; it hurt to breathe so she was sure she had broken a rib or two as well.

Holly wondered why she was still in this house. She contemplated running away and living on the streets, wondering if it was a better life than this. However, whoever did that… _thing_ that made the Bobbies and the Children's Services people go all funny probably could track her and possibly force her back here. Now she thought of it though, the fact she could never _remember_ considering it was unusual; it was quite possible whoever did that _thing_ could make her forget as well.

'_Maybe I did run away before and can't remember it,' _she thought.

It made sense, she had no idea what this power is and what its limits were. If it could mess with minds it could mess with memories.

"I don't like what that man put on our house, Vernon," said Aunt Petunia from the living room. "I don't want that freaky stuff near me."

"I don't like that Twinkly Bastard any more than you do, Tulip," replied Uncle Vernon. "But I will put up with it if it keeps you and Dudders safe from the Deathy-what's-its, and it keeps the police away, and probably that nosy missus across the street too."

"Alright, Vernon," she replied with a sigh. "I don't like that freakishness but if it protects Dudders…"

With those words it hit her; she would never be able to get out of here. For the first time in a very long time she cried and begged to anywhere else.

o0o0o0o

_"… and then he told… Ms Granger that he had done all of this to punish her."_

Hermione had heard every word through the thin veneer door to her room.

It hit her; she wanted to be anywhere but here. There were no family to take her in, no friends, nothing. Nothing in this _world…_

The room lit up with a brilliant flash of white light.

o0o0o0o

Headmaster Albus Wulfric Percival Brian Dumbledore was standing under one of the Deathly Hallows across the road from Number Four, Privet Drive. Not long ago he had gotten a frantic floo call from a rather mentally ill squib whom he had placed not far up the road from Holly Potter. Apparently _Police Officers_ had stopped out the front of Number Four with Holly Potter in tow not long ago and he had decided to check up on the girl.

He was confident his _confundus_ ward would stop anyone from removing her from the _attentive_ care of the Dursleys but it was better to be safe than sorry. Pulling his wand out he cast a simple detection charm.

'_Homenum Revelio,' _he silently incanted which was met with a several blue glows.

'_One on the top floor, two in the living room and one under the stairs,'_ he counted. '_Perfect.'_

Happy his wards worked as designed he was about to twist on the spot and apparate to the _Three Broomsticks_ for a good congratulatory drink – after all, manipulating and pulling the strings on so many things isn't easy – when a massive '_crack'_ sounded and he felt the incredibly powerful wards of Privet Drive collapse.

o0o0o0o

"Sorry, I'll have to go, Ms Stewart," said the Detective as he realised the time.

"No problem, Detective," she replied with a large smile. "Drop by anytime."

"I will," he replied.

As the Detective turned he saw a white light from under the doorframe followed by the thunderous '_crack_' that rattled the building.

Thinking there had just been an explosion the Detective flicked the edge of his coat behind him and went for the revolver on his belt. British police officers didn't normally carry firearms but as a Homicide detective who regularly worked with cases involving gangs and the Irish Republican Army he had permission to carry one.

Raising his gun at the ready towards the door he reached for the doorhandle and turned it as the door swung free. Inside he saw a scene of total devastation.

o0o0o0o

Moving with a speed many people half he age would kill for he ran towards the front door of Number Four casting an unlocking charm as he went before hastily pushing the door open to find a scene of total devastation.

Where once Holly Potter's _room_ – correction, _cupboard _he thought – was a hole. The stairs were mostly gone; blackened and charred wood marked the edges of the devastation. Approaching the destruction and ignoring the look of shock on the faces of the Dursleys as they observed the destruction of their entrance hall the Headmaster approached the hole to find it lined with still burning runes.

He had never seen any runes like this before and he liked to think he had at least read a book on nearly every rune language known to man.

Closer inspection revealed the runes were burned into the concrete foundation of the house. Approaching the rune circle with his hand he recoiled with a gasp as he felt the heat begin to sear his skin. The circle was complex, containing several interwoven circles and many hundreds of runes. Albus Dumbledore surveyed them carefully, knowing that he would need to remember as much as he could for later examination if he ever wanted to find out what just happened and find _his_ saviour.

o0o0o0o

Detective Johnson had no words for the scene before him. He had originally suspected a bomb of some sort form the loud crack and rumbling of the building, the burning strange letters and concentric rings though were confusing. Still, bomb was the best answer he had so he called it in as such.

However, the bomb squad never made it to the Children's Home and not long after Detective Johnson would forget the event as the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad got to work having detected a massive burst of magical energy at two near-London locations. Not long after several Unspeakables from the Department of Mysteries would follow before returning the site to its pre-explosion condition.

If anyone ever looked up a report for the events at the South London Children's Home on the 31st of October 1987 or they attempted to discover the fate of one Hermione Jean Granger all they would be able find was a vague report involving a gas leak and an explosion.

o0o0o0o

Albus Dumbledore knew that any moment the Obliviators and quite possibly the Aurors would be at Number Four. The massive magical burst of whatever happened here followed by the collapse of the wards surrounding Number Four would be like a massive beacon that something was wrong.

He knew he had to work fast to cover up the evidence; he wouldn't be able to hide the fact that this was Holly Potter's home and that she was missing for very long. First the Dursleys would need to forget quite a few key points of their _agreement _in a more permanent manner than the usual '_Obliviate_' charm. Then he would have to shift the blame for the girl's treatment on the Dursley's and offer them up for sacrifice followed by blaming Arabella Figg – who is conveniently mentally unstable – for not passing the message on to her about the girl's mistreatment. Finally he would have to remove traces of some parts of the wards; blood-bound wards were a big no-no if he wanted to avoid Azkaban.

Starting with the Dursleys…

o0o0o0o

Shanae was an apprentice sorceress in the Order of the Citadel. She was twelve when she had been found by members of the Order following a demon attack; the only survivor out of a village of several dozen. Most new sorcerers and sorceresses started in the Order much earlier than that or defected from other orders and clans. Subsequently she was older than most sorceresses or sorcerers in training.

Lavara was Shanae's master – or maybe more correctly _mistress_, if everyone didn't snigger at that. When Lavara said she was ready she could become a full or _junior_ member of the Order. Lavara on the other hand was a _senior_ member of the Order; taking an apprentice was the final step before moving on to become a _master _Sorceress.

Currently they were both sitting in the treetop platform outside of Fort Aksaygrad, the Order's only fort in the Kahnduras Mountains wrapped in cloaks to stay warm in the misty rain. The task was boring and tedious, but necessary to make sure they had some warning if an army of demons and hellspawn decided to swamp them or if the Council of Clans had _finally_ managed to organise themselves enough to assault and wipe them out.

Silence was in many ways a good thing on watch; boring but good. So to have a massive flash of light appear on the forest floor not fifty yards in from of you was unexpected.

Shanae raised her half-staff and prepared to rain ice upon any threats before them as he master mimicked her actions with her longer full-staff. Usually, masters and apprentices were paired up along lines of similar magics. Shanae preferred ice based elemental magics and her master Lavara likewise did so; Lavara having a very good grasp of the topic would be able to point out any problem she had in the area.

"Cast a _Sun-Orb_," muttered Lavara as she attempted to see the figures on the ground in the dark.

_Sun-Orb_ certainly wasn't ice magic but her master had insisted she learn it as it was great for night fighting; removing any advantage undead and demon had over her mortal eyes. It took a while but after several months hard work it payed off and she could now cast a half-decent _Sun-Orb_, though Lavara had insisted she could do better.

Shanae focussed on the energy required as a small orb of light formed at the end of her half-staff. With the initial point formed – arguably the hardest part – she next focussed on pouring more magical energy into it as the yellow-white glob grew until it grew to the size of her head. Happy with the size she gave a flick of her wrist and flung the orb high into the air before it pulsed once and suddenly started to burn at a constant luminosity.

The _Sun-Orb_ lit up the valley the Fort was located in – a defensive trait of the fort that forced armies to approach form only one direction. She could see the mountains that bordered them and the treetops… and the two prone and unmoving figures on the ground surrounded by blacked rune circles.

"Crap," she muttered. "They look like kids."

Shanae made to move but Lavara grabbed her firmly.

"Don't move," she ordered. "Keep watching."

Complying with her master's directions Shanae watched the trees for any movement for several minutes before the _Sun-Orb_ burnt out.

"Now we move."

Master and apprentice climbed down the tree, keeping a firm grip on their weapons, their tools of the trade; casting magic without them was possible, but it was much less effective and less refined.

As they approached where they remember the two children lay Lavara generated a small flame in her hand, no larger than a candle flame. Ice was fire's polar opposite and mastering both elements was incredibly difficult – despite the fact she was not far from her Mastery. Still, the candle flame sized flame was good for illuminating things softly, starting fires, lighting pipes… It was always useful and meant you didn't need to carry a firebox on long journeys.

"Run back to the Fort and ask Senior Healer Helari to send us half a dozen hands," said Lavara as she surveyed the scene of two young girls surrounded but runes burnt into the vitrified soil.

Shanae nodded before turning and began to run along the trail that led to her current home before suddenly grinding to a halt, half-staff raised in a fighting position. Shanae surveyed the trees, swearing she could see an ethereal glowing figure in them.

She shook her head and passed it off as her mind making things up before she resumed her run to the fort.

o0o0o0o

Elder Leaban was second in command of Fort Aksaygrad, and as Elder Sorin was currently outside the Fort looking at runes he was technically in charge. His first order of business for the few short hours he had command was to speak to the Senior Healer in the healing ward of the fort; he was curious about the two girls a master and apprentice had found on watch duty.

"Helari," he greeted.

"Elder," she replied respectfully with a nod.

Trainee Healers, apprentices and junior healers got out of the way so some of the most senior members of the Order in the Fort could talk.

"What can you tell me of the girls?" he asked, straight to the point.

Healer Halari paused for a few second to consider where to start.

"Neither are in the best of shape, for different reasons," she started. "The brown haired girl is in the best of shape really. Physically she appears to be very healthy, but she looks like she's exhausted and possibly hasn't slept in quite a while. I can't tell you anything about her mental state until she wakes but she's magically exhausted as well."

"She's a sorceress?" he asked with surprise.

"They both are."

Leaban blinked a few times in surprise. Randomly – _sort of – _finding two girls who were both mage was unusual. It was a very rare trait in Sanctuary.

"And the other girl?" he asked.

"Underweight, malnutrition, some nasty bruising and a broken right arm," she stated uncomfortably. "Like the other she is magically exhausted."

"Would they be Order material?"

"I can't tell for sure until their mana recharges but seeing how fast it's returning, possibly," she replied.

Leaban stared at the pair for several seconds before the Healer continued.

"The black haired girl has been touched by sacrificial magic; both good and dark," said the Healer as she approached the black-haired girl.

Healer Helari pulled the girl's hair out of the way to expose a red and inflamed scar.

"The dark sacrificial magic is concentrated on this scar while the light… sacrificial magic is imbued in her whole body," she continued uneasily. "I believe they're reacting to each other."

"Light sacrificial magic is unusual," said pondered Leaban.

Leaban wasn't much of a fighter like the militant wing of the Order. Sure, he could fight but he preferred to read old books and rediscover lost magics. He would then go on to train the sorcerers and sorceresses of the Order in them giving them the upper hand in a fight. Sacrifice was very common in demonic magic and common in some forms of necromantic magic.

"Is it demonic in nature?" he asked worriedly.

If it was demonic the girl could very easily be corrupted and unfortunately would have to be put down.

"No," she replied with a shake of her head. "It's not. Nasty for sure, but not demonic."

Leaban visibly relaxed.

"What do you think happened to them?" he asked. "How did they get in these states?"

Helari sighed.

"The brown haired girl as I said is physically very healthy and has no callouses on her hands. She does however have several injuries that I believe are about a week old that have been treated well. I suspect they are linked to the exhaustion."

"Some sort of traumatic event?" he asked.

The Order had many recruits come from wiped out families and villages. Commonly these children would survive due to unconsciously using their magical abilities to protect themselves. It was quite common for the Order's healers to treat children like this.

"Quite possibly."

"And the other?"

"She's had a hard life," said the Healer simply.

"I think I'll speak to them once they've woken up," said Elder Leaban. "Call for me when they do."

o0o0o0o

When Healer Helari got up the next morning she found both patients awake, the brown haired girl sobbing into the arms of the black haired girl.

* * *

**Summary of first three scenes:**

**Walden MacNair is a rapist in search of a victim who gets off on destroying lives, destroying dignity, wanton cruelty and sadism. While searching he comes across a young eight year old Hermione who he witnesses performing accidental magic. Deciding such 'filth' needs to be punished he follows her home and attacks her family before raping her mother, removing certain organs from her father and making her watch the whole ordeal. Burning Hermione's house down with her still alive parents inside he drags her onto the street and tells her that when 'filth' like her gets her Hogwarts letter he's going to visit her in school and let her know there is nothing she can do to about him.**

**I had to find a way for Hermione to want to leave Earth for this and I had the option between 'abusive religious nutjob parents' and 'parents are horribly murdered' so I went with 'horribly murdered'.  
**

* * *

**So, there you go.**

**I'm probably going to rewrite the end tomorrow morning after a good night's sleep because it's awful but we'll see.**

**I chose the name Holly this time. I see Lily's family liked flower and plant names so I can see them continuing that.**

**Please review, follow and favourite. **

**AN1: As expected I rewrote the end part and fixed a few errors.**


End file.
